Digging Deep
by eternallost
Summary: Alayne Stone is brought to the Quiet Isle by her father for a secret purpose. She does not expect how the Silent Brother will see to her needs. SanSan Oneshot with possible continuation.


**Alayne**

"We haven't much time," she heard her father hiss as he looked over the Elder Brother with a steely expression, gauging the merit of his robes. "And we appreciate your secrecy on the matter. Such consideration will be rewarded." Alayne knew not whether to curl her lips in smile or find somewhere to relieve her stomach. Her father was desperate. He was losing the only thing he had ever loved: power. The only way he perceived he could get it back was to wed her to Ser Harry Harding, a Lord that a bastard child would be blessed to have in marriage. A man whom a woman that had seen the cruelty of a king and the vise of a loveless marriage felt not a thing for. A woman known as Sansa had felt nothing for a long time.

"Your worldly rewards are not needed in this place," Elder Brother raised his hand calmly, his warm smile reflecting the same demeanor. "We will take care of this child and see that she is fit for marriage. Please, be situated in the men's chambers to the East. You have journeyed far. We can house you for two moons."

Littlefinger spared one lingering glance at his daughter's pale form before returning his gaze to the Brother. "A father cannot bear witness?" She shivered slightly in the absent cold.

"I am afraid not. This isle is built upon the ideals of peaceful segregation. Only Maesters and men of faith may enter the women's quarters." The Brother noted his hesitation. "Fear not, for she will be well guarded. Silent Brother will watch her."

Littlefinger nodded when his gaze did not turn his daughter's eye. "I will see you in two moons then, Alayne. I trust you will be safe under their supervision. Give them no trouble." With that he exited the cabin.

Alayne released a breath she knew not she had been holding.

Elder Brother took his seat in a worn chair across from the girl with coppery roots, contrasting her ground chestnut hair. "This is a safe haven child," he placed a warm hand atop of hers and she flinched at the contact, her sapphire eyes claiming his. He then removed the offending palm and placed it in his lap. This girl had been mistreated and her hair was an obvious sign of disguise. Who was she and why was she in the clutches of such a devious man? He would make certain that all was made right, but he needed her to tell him the truth. "What is your name?"

"Alayne Stone." The girl spoke as if the voice were not her own.

"Yes, that is what he said." He passed her a piece of sugared bread, "but what say you?"

The girl examined the bread before placing it in her mouth and chewing with a poise that was not present among common folk. She was no bastard. No, he was certain she had once been a Lady. "My name is Alayne Stone. I have never known my mother. My father has been good to raise me." She looked to her folded palms, her posture straight as a board.

"I see. Alayne, we want you to feel comfortable here. We will give you the night to rest from your journey, and on the morrow we will examine you for purity as your father requested. Do you consent to this?"

The girl nodded with delicate restraint.

"Very well." Elder Brother stood as the door opened. A man as broad as the frame entered. "This is our Silent Brother. Be not afraid if he does not answer, he has not spoken much since he arrived to us. Yet he has taken no vows. He is a grave digger, the strongest among us. He will serve as your guard for the next two days." He was about to ask if the girl was comfortable when he caught the way her mouth gaped for an instant, the flush returning to her milky cheeks and a sudden crinkle in her upward brow. So, the two had met before. Perhaps there was hope at making the both of them speak yet. He had to make sure the meeting was under pleasant circumstances. "Are you all right with this arrangement, Alayne?"

The girl swallowed and blinked, returning her gaze to her folded hands. "Yes, Elder Brother. I thank you." There was a warmness, _a life_ , to her voice now.

"Thank you, my child." He nodded knowingly as he placed a hand on Silent Brother's bicep upon exit. "Watch her well."

The man gave a nod.

 **Sandor**

A red feathered little bird all covered in mud still shines through the grime. That was what she was; a bird that chirped sweet, frivolous songs no more. But a bird was a bird, and not whatever it was that prick was trying to pass her off as. Sandor's long silent throat constricted at the view of the girl that had become a woman in his absence. She was even more beautiful than he had imagined she would be during their short time in the Red Keep. What must she think of him now, after he had drunkenly held a knife to her throat and asked for a song? How would she pity him, how would she _loathe_ him, after he had stained the fabric at her chest with his tears and bile? Perhaps she wouldn't know it was him, the long cowl casting a shadow on his face until his stubble.

Whatever she may feel, however she may hate him, at least she was alive. His little bird was alive: Flown from the lions that had toyed with her in their claws for so long. He nearly rode back to cut off the imp's cock when he heard of her betrothal. He'd spent many bitter nights drowned in Dornish Red after that night. He should have heaved her upon his shoulder kicking and screaming rather than leave her to her fate.

He'd likely drank the isle dry, never speaking a word of his sorrows. After that they never imported more. He'd been sober for far too long. He'd been _feeling_ for far too long. The return of his little bird sent his stomach tumbling in hopes that they'd acquired more. Despite her hardships, she had miraculously remained untouched. He'd heard of Littlefucker's plans. Harry pissing Hardying was a Lord, wasn't he? But he'd known much of Lords and Sers. Bugger on that. Was he the man that Sansa deserved? Though he had no right to say, he highly fucking doubted that.

 **Alayne**

Alayne watched the broad back of the Silent Brother as he placed logs beside the fire. She admired the way his shoulder blades moved the muscled sinew of his thick arms. She noted the slight limp of his leg as he bent to get more from the sack beside him. Aside from that, the man reminded her so much of… No… it wouldn't do well to dwell on that. That man was dead. An imposter riding and raking muck upon his name in the Saltpans. The woman known as Sansa was dead as well. A bird and a hound buried in the landslide of an oncoming winter. Still, her hand surprised her in it's bastard's boldness, resting lightly upon his shoulder. He was so welcomingly warm, unlike anything she had felt in the longest time.

The man tensed and she began to pull herself away. "Forgive me, you… reminded me of someone. For a second when you entered, I was sure it was you."

The Silent Brother caught her retreating wrist, still facing the fire, as if asking for more.

Her heart sped and she swallowed. "He was a gruff man, but a kind one; a loyal one above all. Not to his masters, no, but to me." She sat down beside the digger on the hearth, her body achingly close to his back, inhaling his scent and presence. "He was strong, like you. I thought no one alive could defeat him. He saved me once, well, more than once. I wish I could have saved him..." She paused in reflection. "I wouldn't eat for a month after I'd heard he'd died. My father had the maid shove food in my mouth on the third day. I swallowed, but there was no flavor in it anymore. Nothing has tasted the same since. All is becoming dull in the gray of winter." She licked her lips, searching for hints of spices, "We shared a kiss once." The man's hand tightened around her wrist. "There was such desire in it. I haven't met the like. It is the one I compare to all others."

The man stood abruptly, leaving the girl flushed by the fire. "I'm sorry to have offended you, my Lord... You'll stay to guard my door, won't you?" her voice was almost fearful.

The Silent Brother nodded in profile, his back to her still.

"Thank you." Her relief was palpable upon exit.

 **Sandor**

 _I never bloody kissed you, girl._ Sandor paced back and forth in front of her cottage in the woods. She had the nicest one reserved for Ladies renowned. Not that any visited. This was the first he'd seen of one in years. _Out of all the women in all the realms_ it had to be her to set foot on his isle of solitude. Why would she imagine that? His crude lips placed upon hers… The very thought of her wanting him to sent a jolt to his cock. He sank into the chair facing the tall pines. He needed time to cool down.

 **Alayne**

Alayne paced back and forth indoors wondering what exactly she had said to offend her guard. Perhaps she had been too racy in her description, she _had_ been around servant girls for too long. Their salacious activities held a distant interest to her in the Vale. Though their exploits felt nothing like her roiling stomach when her father's mint-scented tongue sought hers out. They all seemed to enjoy their encounters, revel in them even. The only thing that she had to compare it to was Sandor's kiss. On her darkest nights returning from her father's chambers, she'd taken his stained cloak out of the depths of her wooden chest and wrapped herself in it. She tried so hard to recollect the feeling of his ruined lips upon hers the last night she had seen him. _I could keep you safe…_ It was the only right thing she could recall.

She should apologize to her guard. She should make him understand her circumstances and ask him to forgive her. He was the closest thing to an ally that she had in this place. Alayne silently slipped through the door as her eye caught the man sitting by her door.

As she stepped out, he stiffly tried to hide his tented robes. _He was… He was aroused_. She had seen men excited through their clothes before, but the sight had never affected her until now. She could touch it, she thought wickedly, she could entice him and lose her maidenhead. Then she would lose all value. She could never be sold like cattle again. _Perhaps best of all, the man wouldn't talk…_

"My Lord," she placed her hand on his shoulder, "I am afraid that I have offended you."

The Silent Brother shook his head gruffly.

"No? Yet, you sit here in the cold when there is a fire inside. Please," her hands trailed over his pectorals, feeling the percussion beneath her left palm. There was such strength there. Such a heart could never quit, such a man could never die. "Won't you let me," her hands trailed further to his steel stomach beneath the rough spun cloth, "warm you?"

His strong palm grabbed her wrist once more, halting her exploration. She nearly whimpered at her inability to feel the hardness straining between his legs. She was beginning to feel stirrings betwixt her own. One of the servant girls had spoken about touching herself. Alayne felt bold enough to try it once or twice, but never felt the urge to seek completion. She felt it strongly now.

"What are you doing, girl?" The broken gravel of his voice tore her from her thoughts.

 **Sandor and Sansa**

Her icy little fingers, her little palms, were insistently dancing across his robes. She was seeking him out, she was seeking something but he knew not what. Just what had happened to his Little Bird up in the Vale that she would come crawling to some Brother for needs unknown? The strain of his cock nearly let her do whatever she wished, but the questions he held were enough to make him limp.

"What are you doing, girl?" His voice was rough from disuse.

"Sand-" he swiftly placed a hand over her soft lips, catching the feel of her tooth.

"Inside," he encouraged and she nodded as salty tears trailed over his knuckles. He'd done it. He never wanted to make her cry again, yet he managed to do it the instant he revealed himself.

He followed her lithe body through the cabin door. She had grown tall in his absence; the crown of her hair now at his chest.

"What are you doing feeling up some strange Brother in the woods?"

"Not some strange Brother, Sandor," her voice something akin to awe, "it was you."

His throat constricted at the use of his name. "And what would you be feeling me up for, Little Bird? What exactly _were_ you hoping would happen back there?"

"I thought that you were dead."

"And, what, you wanted to see what it was like with a dead man?"

She composed herself by the fire, "My father would like to see me wed to-"

"Father?" He barked, "Bugger that, we both know what happened to your father. What has Littlefucker forced into your head?" He grasped her arm to make her face him. "He didn't treat you like one of his whores, did he?" His thumb rested on her chin, "Is that why you acted the way you did?"

Sansa's eyes were wide as tears stained her flushed cheeks anew. "N-no." she stuttered.

"I'll kill him." Sandor growled, "I should have killed the cunt years ago."

"I just don't want to be bought and sold anymore!" She exhaled swiftly. "I'd rather lose my maidenhead than be used as some sort of trinket or tool." Her chest moved in and out with frustrations unsaid. "I wanted to choose."

"And you would choose some Silent Brother?"

"Why not?" she spoke indignantly, "He wouldn't speak of it."

"What if it had been Elder Brother?"

"Gods, no… No." she shyly looked away from his gaze. "I'd only had the idea because I was thinking of you."

"Thinking of… me?"

She chewed her lip and nodded.

"Thinking of me gets you…"

"I don't know! When I think of kissing you I-"

" _We've never kissed_ , Sansa!"

Her face paled as her eyes locked on his.

"Yes," he nodded, "you're Sansa. Sansa Stark of Winterfell. I won't ever call you that shit name Littlefucker came up with. It doesn't suit you, along with that horrid attempt at chestnut hair. I told you Little Bird, 'a hound will die for you but never lie to you.'"

"We've never kissed?" Her voice was miles away.

"No, Little Bird." He sat beside her near the fire, his voice gentle now, "I had wanted to but I was too chickenshit to do it. Probably for the better, the way I treated you that night-"

"Kiss me." She turned towards him.

"What?" His head jerked backwards.

"Kiss me!" Her eyes were pleading.

"All right, Little Bird… I'll kiss you." He tilted his head, observing her observing him as their lips parted and his breath mingled with hers. His rough lips met her smooth ones as she let out a small noise of approval. He placed his hand lightly on the back of her head, afraid to hurt her as he deepened the kiss seeking her tongue with his own. The feel of her mouth brought a sound of hunger from his throat as well. At that he withdrew. He didn't know if he could handle himself any further. He marveled at her glossy, half-lidded eyes, lost in the strangeness of it all.

"Thank you," she smiled warmly, seemingly sated.

The words 'I could take you with me, keep you safe,' stuck like bones in his throat.

"Sandor, I don't want to be a pawn anymore… Will you take me away as you once said?"

After so many years, his bird had sung first.


End file.
